


Over Where You Began

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Canon Era, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode: s01e01 Currahee, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Intimacy, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Trust, very vague though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: The way Bull saw it, Johnny was mad at him now, and Bull had no idea what he'd done wrong. Maybe it was better to just let it lie, let Johnny come out of whatever angry mood he was in on his own, instead of kicking an ant's nest.
Relationships: Johnny Martin/Bull Randleman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	Over Where You Began

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Tec for beta reading and reassuring me. You're the best.
> 
> This story contains a brief reference to implied past sexual violence, but it's not at all graphic.

Johnny was laughing so hard it made it difficult for Bull to focus on what he was doing. He was _trying_ to keep a hold of Johnny's shoulders so that he'd stop squirming while Bull thrust into him, but the way Johnny'd wrapped his legs around Bull's hips, and how his hands were everywhere on Bull's body, and how sweet this all felt, with Johnny's laughter tumbling out of him and giving wings to Bull's heart, well it all made it a challenge to do right by a man who'd said he wanted to be fucked hard and fast.

Bull bit his lip and kept rolling his hips forward, trying to get leverage against Johnny's clinging legs by shoving him into the mattress. Sweat was running down his back, making their skin slippery, and the whole world narrowed down to the feel of his body against Johnny's, and the sound of their flesh colliding. Johnny's breath grew harsher, interrupting his laughter. Their bodies had been made to go together, and every time felt new and impossibly sweet. 

Johnny's hands drifted down to the side of Bull's ribs, where he _knew_ Bull was just a little ticklish, and predictably enough his nails started to play at the sensitive skin there. Bull squawked at the contact, body shuddering as he tried not to giggle. Johnny's wandering hands were the last thing Bull needed, and he let go of Johnny's shoulders and caught both of his wrists in one hand and pinned them to the bed above him. Johnny's mouth fell open, and Bull kissed him hard, claiming Johnny even as he relaxed and stopped fighting as Bull screwed into him.

That surrender more than anything else drove Bull over the edge. He cupped the side of Johnny's face with one hand while he held his wrists with the other. Their bodies rocked together on the bed, and Bull had to break the kiss to bury his face against Johnny's neck as the sensations overwhelmed him. The room became too hot and close, and something like a fever flashed over his skin at the same moment as the pleasure of release rushed through him so intensely that he stopped breathing.

He stayed that way for a long, frozen moment, fully buried inside Johnny, who was still under him, seeming to have melted into the sheets. Bull drew in a long, deliberate breath and kissed Johnny's neck, then his cheek, then his lips before carefully rolling off of him.

Bull tugged at Johnny's shoulder, trying to pull him onto his chest so that they could cuddle like they usually did, but Johnny lay like dead weight.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he looked down at Johnny. He was still lying on his back with his legs spread and his hands above his head. He had come on his stomach from when he'd gotten off as Bull had entered him, and more leaking out of his ass. His whole body gleamed with sweat, and his thick hair clung to his forehead. He'd been laughing a minute ago, but now his expression seemed distant

Reaching down, Bull cupped the side of Johnny's face again. Johnny started slightly, then looked at Bull and curved his lips up. It was more a snarl than a smile, but he was trying, and this time he let Bull pull him over so that he lay half sprawled on top of Bull's chest. He clutched Bull's bicep, buried his face in Bull's chest, and didn't say a damn word.

This was the first time in a while they'd had any real privacy, in this case a hotel room in Atlanta, and Bull wondered if he'd lost his touch. He threaded his fingers through Johnny's wet hair, and ran his hand up and down Johnny's arm, and wondered if he hadn't performed as expected. Bull sighed, his chest lifting Johnny's head as he did.

He'd spent every step of that march from Toccoa to here thinking of Johnny's touch, and how they'd finally get a chance to mess around. Every frozen minute he'd thought of how warm Johnny would be in his arms, how his laughter would soak right into his bones.

Bull had thought Johnny had been imagining the same thing, buried in his curses and glares at any man who looked like he was even thinking about slacking off. He'd seemed eager enough to find somewhere private, had been laughing a few moments ago, but now he was pensive, almost sullen. Bull didn't know how to face that. Usually sex did the opposite: stripping away all of Johnny's walls until he lay relaxed and happy in Bull's arms. It always had before.

Johnny sighed and dug his fingers into Bull's arm, squirming like he wanted to sleep but couldn't get comfortable. Bull leaned down and kissed Johnny's hair, frowning deeply.

Should he ask if he'd done something wrong? When Johnny was in a foul mood, usually the last thing he wanted was anyone asking him a question that he thought should have an obvious answer. Nothing pissed Johnny off more than stupidity. It was how Bull had always known that Johnny didn't mean it when he called him dumb hick: the warmth in his tone that never appeared when he was really mad at someone.

The way Bull saw it, Johnny was mad at him now, and Bull had no idea what he'd done wrong. Maybe it was better to just let it lie, let Johnny come out of whatever angry mood he was in on his own, instead of kicking an ant's nest.

"Do you wanna sleep some?" Bull asked carefully.

Johnny lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and said nothing.

Bull felt his heart sink. He and Johnny often shared a tent in the field, and had this march, but curling up together to ward off the cold wasn't the same as sleeping wrapped in each other's arms like this. These were the moments to be yearned for and hoarded, or so Bull had thought. "Do you want me to sleep over there?" he asked, nodding to the other bed, not quite keeping the hurt out of his voice.

"Shit," Johnny muttered. He sucked a sharp breath through his nose, as though he were about to dive into cold water, and rolled off of Bull.

"Okay," Bull mumbled. He started to roll off the bed. Thinking he'd find his skivvies and crawl into the bed they hadn't planned to use at all.

Before he could do more than sit up, Johnny's hand clamped down on his wrist. "No, wait," Johnny snapped. "For fuck's sake, I didn't mean it."

Bull nodded slowly, relieved. "I don't know why you're sore all of a sudden," he commented, but settled back into bed this time lying on his side, facing Johnny.

They'd left the lamp on so they could see each other, but it seemed too bright now, too revealing as Johnny tried to look away, but found he had nowhere to turn. "It ain't nothing you did," Johnny told him. "You know how I get."

"Sure," Bull said, though he'd never gotten like that in bed before. He reached over and put his hand on Johnny's shoulder, stroking down his arm with the ball of his thumb, and felt heartened when Johnny smiled a little. "If I'd wanted someone who wasn't a moody son of a bitch, I'd have taken up with Hoobler."

That made Johnny snort with laughter. "Hoob wouldn't know what to do with you."

"Might have fun trying to work it out though," Bull said, though he couldn't quite picture it himself.

The edge of jealousy was enough to push Johnny into rolling forward and kissing Bull, burying his hand in Bull's curls and knotting his fingers until Bull's scalp burned. "Not on your life," Johnny muttered.

That was more like it. Bull kissed Johnny back, and kept running his hand down Johnny's arm. He moved his hand from his arm to his flank, then slid it down towards his ass. They'd only gone once that evening, and Bull thought they could do better.

But when Bull's hand got far enough south to be interesting, Johnny's breath caught again, and he went still in a way that Bull now found chillingly familiar.

"Aw hell," Bull muttered, but didn't know how to make any of that into a question, didn't know if he should ask anything at all. Instead, he rolled forward again and wrapped his arm around Johnny's shoulders, tugging their bodies together. Bull liked the way that Johnny could curl up into the fold of his arms. It always lit a spark of protective pride deep in his chest.

He thought that might be the end of it, that Johnny would sleep nestled up against his chest, and then when he woke they'd make up for any time they might have lost until they were expected to show up after reveille. Only Johnny didn't relax like he usually did, and his hesitation made Bull's body tense in return. His hand stopped stroking down Johnny's back and tightened on his shoulder. He didn't know entirely what was needed, so he just said, "You know I'd do anything in the world you asked of me, don't you?"

Johnny sighed, breath hot against Bull's chest. "Yeah, I know, Bull. Never figured out why, but I know."

"I never fixed on why either," Bull told him, ruffling his hair. "Don't suppose it matters, in the end."

"Sure," Johnny said, but he didn't sound like that answer satisfied him. Bull balanced the idea of sweet talking Johnny with the notion that leaving him in peace might work out better.

Bull knew that he was too wound up to sleep right then, no matter how his body ached after a three-day march, and if Johnny didn't want to talk, and didn't want to have sex, he wasn't sure what to do save hold onto him and keep quiet. He closed his eyes and let those last few moments of their lovemaking drift through his mind: the way Johnny had stopped laughing and gone still under Bull. Had that been a surrender to Bull's manhandling, or something else?

"I didn't mean to hurt you none," Bull whispered. He shouldn't put this on Johnny, but at the same time he couldn't bear letting it lie a second longer, no matter how selfish that made Bull. "I'm sorry."

Johnny sucked his teeth, and Bull felt him hold his breath as he thought it over, like he was stilling himself while aiming for a mark on the range. "I ain't hurt," he said finally. The irritation that started in his voice grew as he finished, "You think I wouldn't tell you?"

Bull didn't say anything. He wasn't sure that Johnny would say something. The army had spent the last six months making sure that no one squawked when he was injured, and most of the fellows'd already started out pretty rough, given the lean years before the war. "All right," he murmured, and paused before adding, "You been quiet, is all, but I'll let you be."

Now that Johnny was started, it seemed, Bull wasn't going to stop him. He kept his face pressed to Bull's chest, but he spoke with the same clipped tone as he used to tell a man he wasn't stripping down his mortar fast enough. "I'm gonna say this once, and you ain't going to ask me a damn thing, and you ain't going to mention it again, okay?"

He even waited for an answer. Bull felt like he'd already written Johnny a blank cheque, but he still nodded and said, "Okay."

Johnny took a deep breath and said in the most matter of fact tone imaginable: "I don't like having my hands pinned like that. I'd rather not be held down at all."

"I..." Bull started, before remembering Johnny's prohibitions. He could think half a dozen reasons why a man might freeze up on being held down on a bed, and he didn't like any of them. However, Johnny had asked him not to pry into any of this, and Bull had boxed himself in by agreeing. "All right," he said. "Whatever you want."

He felt Johnny's head move as he nodded sharply. "Good," he grunted, then he made a point of snuggling against Bull, like he planned to drop off to the land of nod in the very next second. At first Bull thought it was just an act, that no one could just sleep after saying something like that, but as Johnny's shoulders rose and fell under Bull's arm, he seemed to be doing just that.

Bull turned enough to reach for the lamp, sending the room into darkness, then took a hold of Johnny's shoulder again and curled back around him, trying to find that warm glow of protectiveness that he'd felt before.

This time, it eluded him. The notion that someone might have hurt the man now snuggled down in his arms, sleeping as though he trusted Bull completely, niggled at his mind. Too many dark scenarios—even memories of near misses he'd experienced in his younger days—played through his mind. The last thing Bull had meant was to dredge any of that up for Johnny. If he could take back what he'd done, he would. If he could go back and protect Johnny from whatever had hurt him, he would.

Of course, that was all nonsense. Bull could no more protect Johnny than Johnny would ever want to be protected. Besides which, maybe it was all nothing, a preference on Johnny's part, and Bull was making up trouble where none existed. He thought again of Johnny's stillness under him, of his quiet moodiness after, and couldn't seem to find comfort in that idea.

He felt like the lowest thing on earth for not noticing at the time. Hell, Johnny's sudden submission had made Bull come. If he'd known then…

Bull groaned, and Johnny made an unhappy noise in his sleep. There was no use in any of this, Bull decided. He needed to let it be. He should have let Johnny be.

What finally let Bull sleep was remembering that Johnny had trusted him with a small part of himself, maybe something more important than letting their bodies join, or trusting Bull with his military career. It didn't matter that he hadn't shared details; he'd still shared something that, if Bull were a cruel man, could be used to hurt Johnny badly, and he'd trusted Bull not to pry into the reasons behind it. From a man as closed up as Johnny, that was something.

What, exactly, it was, Bull didn't work out, but the notion of it was enough for the night.

Johnny woke him up the next morning by rocking their morning wood together, and kissing Bull's cheeks.

Bull cracked an eyelid. His body was already on board and about to sail, but his mind was still in a muzzy half dreamed night march where every man'd had to carry MGs. This was a good deal nicer, and Bull leaned into the kiss, running his knuckles over the bumps of Johnny's spine. In the months since they'd taken this up, they'd had the chance to wake up together only a handful of times, and Bull couldn't put words to how much he enjoyed it.

"How long we have?" he mumbled against Johnny's insistent lips.

"Couple hours." Johnny pushed Bull onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. When he planted his palms on Bull's shoulders, Bull finally remembered the events of the night before.

He could see his recollection reflected in Johnny's face, which went from an affectionate smile to the kind of scowl that dared a man to make something of it.

Bull knew that he only had a split second to respond, that what he did would ripple forward into every time they were in bed from now on. If he hesitated a second too long, Johnny would clam up, and he'd be right to.

Bull reached up and wrapped his arms around Johnny's neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Johnny's hair tangled in his fingers, and the backs of his thighs were tantalisingly close to Bull's cock, but Johnny's little moan of relief wiped all that away. Bull felt a flash of a different sort of pride, a softer, warmer kind that didn't have the anger of protectiveness to it.

"Could kiss you for days," he whispered into Johnny's ear.

Johnny's face was too close to focus on, but Bull still knew he was smiling again. He wiggled his ass, and Bull bucked up against it, his body moving faster than he could think.

"We _could_ just kiss," Johnny teased.

"Bastard," Bull muttered, and rolled them both over so that he was on top.

"Yeah, but that's why you like me." Johnny grinned up at Bull, no hesitation in his expression just the anticipation of a long slow screw.

Bull made a show of studying his face, like he was trying to tell if that was true or not. "Seems like it is," he concluded, and kissed Johnny before he could come up with another smart reply.

Johnny raked his nails down Bull's back in answer, making Bull moan against his mouth. Johnny laughed and wrapped his legs around Bull's hips, and Bull felt his heart lift again.

How often did a man get a second chance to do right by someone?

"Can think of a few other things I like about you, too," he said, and then showed Johnny what they were.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Loose Lips Sink Ships Meme prompt: "One of them is oddly quiet after sex, and eventually the other works out that something they did unintentionally called up past trauma."


End file.
